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aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand. . .

Sorry to the three of you who tried to access my blog in the past week- I tend to overreact to things, and rather than sit and logically think through this one, I just shut down for a while. Now we’re back in the saddle, and ready to roll.

What is the point of having a blog if those nearest and dearest to you can’t read it? Does it mean that I put on a facade for them, and can’t let them know who I REALLY am? Does it mean that there are things that I write that simply shouldn’t be written at all? I don’t know, but whatever. This whole blog world is borderline fake anyway, so why do I worry so much about it?

At any rate, I’ve got a zillion things I want to write about, but since I am no longer living in the depths of hell and numbly neglecting my kids and my domestic reality, I no longer have (ugh) **time** to write. This really bums me out. I like to write. A lot. I like to converse with y’uns out there. But, alas, I’m stuck laying by the pool, or going to movies, or creating paper boats to float in our drainage ditch with those damned kids. I’m stuck being (gulp) happy and content. Woe is me.